A Beautiful Story
by Tanoshimi
Summary: Lovino Romano Vargas is a suicidal designer who is unhappy with his fate. One day, he chances to meet Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, who turns his life upside down. Spain x Romano
1. Chapter 1

Hi, everyone! This is my latest project (since I've gotten into the Spamano craze). I've written up a few chapters already, but I just wanted to see if anyone would actually read a fic like this. So, please go ahead!

* * *

"Oh, shit!" Romano hit the brake pedal of his motorcycle with as much force as he could muster, causing the people driving behind him to honk their horns angrily. He moved to the side of the road. Removing his helmet, he yelled, "Shut it! It's not my fault!" His glare was then directed at the guilty party, who was standing in front of him. It was a young man with curly brown hair, green eyes, and slightly tanned skin. There was a goofy grin on the person's face. He looked like he had been knocked over the head with something. "Why did you suddenly run out in front of me? I could have hit you!" Romano growled.

"I'm sorry!" The young man's voice was light and cheerful. "I guess I was too caught up in my hitchhiking. Are you okay?"

"What's it to you?" Romano was slightly uncomfortable at the way the hitchhiker was gazing at him raptly, even admiringly. The person before him looked positively star struck. "What do you want?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" Star Struck Hitchhiker Guy's eyes lit up upon remembering his purpose. "Can you take me to the Café du Monde?" Romano recognized the place. He often went there to have a sandwich and a cup of coffee during breaks from work. But he wasn't too keen on giving rides to random strangers, especially when he had more pressing matters to attend to. This person, however, seemed persistent, and Romano speculated that even if he refused his time would still be wasted by the subsequent argument.

"Fine. Get on." Tossing a helmet at his passenger, he slapped his own headgear on and started the ignition. "Hold on tightly," he cautioned as the engine roared to life. When the motorcycle began to move he felt his waist being encircled by two arms. He nearly recoiled. Well, the faster he went the sooner he would be free of this person. So he drove twice as quickly as usual and arrived at the café in half the time.

"Hey, thanks!" his passenger said as he climbed off. He did not seem to be affected by Romano's haphazard driving at all, despite the hairpin turns and screeching stops.

"Yeah, yeah." He prepared to leave.

"By the way, I'm Antonio. What's your name?"

"Er…" This guy sure was annoying. "Call me Romano."

"Alright. Thanks, Romano! I'll see you around!" Antonio waved as the other man sped away. Romano left without a second thought. Little did he know that his life was about to change drastically.

* * *

He had always known that he would kill himself.

There was no other way that he could imagine dying except by his own hand. The possibilities abounded: a gunshot to his temple, a jump off a cliff, a lethal dose of morphine… Suicide seemed much more comfortable than dying however which way Fate decided he would die. Because knowing Fate, the results would not be pretty. Fate had always been a bitch to him; when he was but a child, his mother had left his father for some guy who took her to a faraway country. He never heard from her again. It was at that point, he supposed, that he had become estranged from his family. The father and brother who had made no moves to stop his mother as she left (even as he, a mere ten year old child, stretched out his arms to her and begged her to stay) were no longer his loved ones.

And so Romano grew up in his own awkward fashion, refusing familial assistance as he made the important transition from adolescence to adulthood. Along the way, he developed a frosty cold demeanor and a knack for using profanity, as well as a suicidal streak. Fate had been kind in one aspect: it had given Romano an eye for design. This he utilized in his occupation as a designer. With this job, he hoped to make enough money to support his family after his eventual death. Hence the reason why he was now on his way to his father's house, to give him the weekly sum that he hoped would suffice. He was not going to die with the starvation of his family burdening his soul.

He arrived and neatly parked his motorcycle in the driveway. Then he made his way to the front door and knocked. Romano knocked exactly three times, with each knock being as curt and precise as a gunshot. He could hear a rustling from within the house. All of a sudden, the door was wrenched open and he was staring at his parent's beaming face.

"Lovino!" That was his name: Lovino Romano Vargas. Hearing the man say it made him want to retch.

"Rome." He preferred to call his father by his name, as "Dad" sounded much too affectionate. So he breezed into the house, sidestepping the hug his father was about to envelope him in and ignoring the hurt look on the man's face.

"Papa? Is that Lovino?" His brother, Feliciano Veneciano Vargas. The favored child of the family and part of the reason why he wanted to stop living.

"Yes, Feli! Your brother is here!" Feliciano suddenly materialized and embraced his sibling tightly. Romano immediately pushed him away. His brother did not seem to mind. "It's been such a long time since I've seen you!" he squealed. It had been; Feliciano worked at the Italian headquarters of their clothing line Veneroma, which the brothers had created together. They had been partners at one point, having both worked in Italy. Then Rome had retired, forcing his eldest son to travel to a different country and start a new headquarters there to support him. Romano didn't think he'd ever forgive Rome for that. His last shred of joy in life had been destroyed upon relocation.

"How is the company in Italy?" he asked roughly. Feliciano drooped.

"It's fine, but can't we talk about something besides work?" Typical of his brother to shrug off responsibility. He had never been as serious as Romano when it came to work.

"Fine. Where's Germania?" Germania was the man whom his father had moved in with after his wife left. Romano did not know his real name and did not care to find out. Rome called him Germania, so that was what he referred to him as. He didn't really like him much. The blond man suddenly walked out of a room. He and Romano nodded at each other silently and looked away. Feliciano tried to strike up a conversation again.

"So, how are you doing?"

"Same as always." No one knew about his eventual plan. Romano wanted to keep it to himself.

"Well, um… I invited Ludwig to come with me this time from Italy!" It was a sure invitation for some animation on his brother's part. Indeed, Romano's eyes began to flash dangerously.

"You're still hanging out with that potato bastard?"

"…Yes. And please don't call him that, Lovino, he always gets depressed afterwards. He was brought up on potatoes, that's all."

"Like I care what the hell he feels. I'm telling you, Feliciano, that guy is dragging you down!" Of course, his idiot brother would not heed him and as a result would proceed to screw up his life potato-style. Romano was doing all he could to help him before passing on. In fact, he was doing all he could to help out his entire family. But if they couldn't help themselves, then what was the point of doing anything?

* * *

For those who are even slightly interested by this, don't worry. The next chapters will contain more of the plot and are hopefully better. I'd definitely appreciate feedback to know what I'm doing wrong (or right). Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

Due to the overwhelming number of story alerts, favorites, and reviews, I've managed to get enough confidence to continue the fanfiction. Thanks, everyone!

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"I'm leaving for my lunch break," Romano issued curtly to his secretary. She nodded and noted it down in her little black log. He subsequently left, exiting the Veneroma headquarters and making his way to his motorcycle. Today he was going to the Café du Monde to eat. Romano barely noticed the things taking place around him as he whizzed by at a breakneck speed. Who gave a shit about the young couples kissing on park benches, the children playing on the side of the road, the sun shining brightly over everyone? He sure didn't. Anyway, he planned on taking his time; nothing very important was occurring at work today and he didn't feel particularly pressed to return early. The way to the café was so embedded in his mind that he did not even have to pay attention to where he was going. So he arrived as usual and walked into the establishment. On his way inside he noticed that the former "Help Wanted" sign in the front door was gone. _Whatever_. But, upon entering, he was immediately assailed by an oddly familiar voice.

"Welcome to the Café du Monde! Hey, do I know you?" The server standing before him, Romano was startled to see, was none other than—

"You! You work here?" He hadn't meant it to come out in such an undignified way, but the shock was great. Antonio cocked his head confusedly. Then he brightened up.

"Romano, right? Yeah, I remember! You gave me a ride! Come on, I'll show you to a table." Along the way, he explained, "I was going to apply for a job here when you brought me. Thanks again, by the way! I only got here in the nick of time; Francis was about to give the job to someone else." All Romano could think was that Antonio was really very chatty and enthusiastic. It seemed that every one of his sentences was punctuated by a glaring exclamation point. How irritating.

"Uh huh." Then something occurred to him. "You know Francis Bonnefoy?"

"Yeah, he and I are friends! He agreed to hire me as an employee here." So Antonio had connections. He wouldn't have believed that at first glance. Maybe the man wasn't as stupid as he seemed.

"Right. So, is there a free table anywhere?" It seemed that they were ambling in circles around the café.

"Oh, yeah!" Antonio led him to a seat near the window. "How's this?"

"Fine. Thanks." Romano was relieved when he was finally able to sit down and order something. However, his server seemed intent on talking his ear off.

"Do you come here often?" Antonio asked when he brought the food over. Romano merely grunted in affirmation. He just wanted to eat in peace, damn it! After a few more moments of pointless chatter he finally said,

"I'd like to eat. In privacy." His server didn't get the hint.

"Do you want your own room to eat in?" Antonio asked, baffled. "I don't know if we have any private rooms…"

"What I mean is I want you to let me eat in peace."

"Oh, I see!" But he obviously didn't, since he remained standing beside Romano. However, he did cease talking for the duration of the meal. It was better than nothing, at least, so Romano ceased caring. He finished only to find Antonio with the same star struck expression on his face as he had had the first time they met.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, frowning.

"Nothing at all!"

"Okay… I'd like the check now, please." Antonio whipped the little tray out with lightning speed, eliciting a high-pitched squeak from the wary diner at the table. After clearing his throat several times, Romano paid for his meal. He also retrieved a tip for his server (it was mandatory or else he would not have bothered) and held it out awkwardly.

"Uh, here."

"Thanks!" The man took it in his hands reverently, as if the stained and creased five dollar bill was the Holy Grail. Romano found that he wasn't necessarily complaining about the adoration in his server's eyes. As the designer rose to leave, Antonio inquired casually, "So, will I see you tomorrow?" This made Romano hesitate. There were millions of answers floating around in his head: _So what if I do? Maybe I will. No, never again!_ But he wasn't sure about which one to pick.

"Maybe," was his final, noncommittal reply as he exited the café.

* * *

He did return the next day, though it was more from habit than anything else. Or at least, that was what he told himself as Antonio greeted him once again.

"You came back!" he exclaimed joyfully, nearly succeeding in making Romano flush red. _Stop it. He's just another person to leave behind when you pass away. _

"Yeah, yeah. Are you going to seat me or not?" Despite his gruff reply, Antonio led the way with a sunny smile and a deluge of words.

"So, what can I get you?" Romano heard upon tuning back into the other man's prattling.

"Pasta with marinara and could you tell them to put a couple of tomatoes on the side as well?"

"Sure! You seem to like tomatoes a lot."

"I guess."

"Me too! I think we're going to get along just fine." If that was his logic, then Antonio had another thing coming. As if his brash mannerisms and cheerful personality were going to make an impact on Romano…!

But Antonio's forwardness was something new. Romano was not sure how to take it except it really was very naïve and that weird thrill he just felt was from the breeze coming through the window. He couldn't afford to have it be from anything else.

"So, are you from around here?" They were getting rather familiar, he observed. That was dangerous. However, responding might keep up the façade of normalcy for a bit longer before the end.

"Yeah."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a designer."

"A designer? Hm, a designer…" Antonio thought for a while. "Ah! You're Romano, from Veneroma!"

"You know the line?" A simple plebeian like him? Romano was mildly impressed.

"Yeah! I see it in stores all the time!"

"Ah." Romano took pride in having Veneroma well known. "Do you wear any?"

"No." For a moment, Antonio looked a little less happy. "I can't afford it."

"Oh." Romano tried to put a note of disdain in his voice (to distance himself from Antonio), but it was a weak attempt. He was still slightly curious as to the cause of Antonio's financial situation.

"It's okay, though. " The man's lightheartedness was back again. "Wow, a designer! I can't believe I know one!"

"Yeah."

"What's it like being you?"

"Oh. It's, uh…" Bleak? Dreary? Painful? "Nothing special."

"That's pretty vague."

"So?" His angry retort hung in the air. While Antonio rushed off to help another table, Romano tried to calm his agitated mind. He could not become close to anyone (if a person managed to provoke a dramatic reaction from him, how could they not be considered close?). It would make his departure from this world much too complicated. Antonio would not—could not—be the one to influence his decision to die. This he vowed to himself.

However, even with his iron will, he already knew that resistance was futile.

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I hope the plotline still interests you after this chapter. *is nervous* Please tell me how it was!


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for all of the encouragement! I've also been receiving some constructive criticism, which is really helping a lot. I can only hope that my fic is up to par. Please enjoy!

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Romano had gone to the Café du Monde so many times now that the staff began to take interest in him.

"What's your name, _cher_?" Francis Bonnefoy, the establishment's proprietor, asked him one day. He glared.

"Romano." Francis gasped.

"You wouldn't happen to be _the _Romano, the co-creator of Veneroma, would you?"

"So what if I am?"

"Oh!" The man smiled seductively. "I am a big fan of your line. The contours of the clothing suit me well, don't you think?" He opened his jacket, revealing a shirt that showed a bit too much of his chest. Romano didn't take the bait.

"We try to make our clothing compatible with any body form," he explained, looking at Francis with poorly concealed distaste.

"Then I would say that your clothing and I are very similar. I too am compatible with any body form." Was it his imagination or did Francis just inch closer? Frowning, Romano said,

"I'd like to order now."

"Of course. What can I get you?" After telling Francis his choice, he inquired nonchalantly,

"Where is Antonio?"

"He said he couldn't make it today." The other man smiled slyly. "Do you know each other?"

"…A little."

"Is that so?" Romano could see the implication in Francis' eyes but said nothing. He did not want to be banned by the café's proprietor for slapping him, especially not before he himself died. Anyway, he was not close to Antonio at all, not one bit. _Not. One. Bit._ So Romano waited for Francis to return with his food. Upon the blond man's arrival he asked,

"You and Antonio are friends, right?"

"Indeed. How do you know?"

"He told me. Does he live around here?"

"Yes, actually. Do you need an address?"

"No way! I just wanted to know if he was a local."

"Are you sure? It's no trouble, really. And I'm sure Antonio would appreciate it. He talks about you all the time." Romano was thrown off guard.

"What?"

"You've made quite an impression on him." At this, the designer became wary. This had not been included in his plans. All he wanted was a nice, clean break from the world. Antonio would ruin everything! But all he said was "Hmph" and proceeded to finish his lunch. Francis looked on.

"Can I get you anything else? Antonio's number, perhaps?"

"No." Romano's cold answer startled Francis. The man stood up and left, leaving the due amount on the table without meeting anyone's eyes. He had to fortify his resolve. Developing a bond with someone now was much too risky. The repercussions could be horrific. Therefore, it was with a sort of steely determination that he went off.

Meanwhile, Francis had made his way to the small office at the back of his café. Romano's behavior was abrupt but not unusual. Francis had seen tons of people in denial about love before. And he would be damned if he let Antonio's chance at romance slip away. He picked up his phone and dialed in a number. Then he waited.

"Hello, Antonio? How are you feeling? Listen, Romano came in and asked for you today…"

* * *

On the day after the next, Romano entered the Café du Monde in the hopes that Antonio would not be there. He was disappointed.

"Romano! I'm sorry I wasn't here the day before yesterday. Francis said you were looking for me," Antonio burst out upon seeing him. He looked genuinely repentant. Romano, in the meantime, tried to locate said proprietor of the café so he could kill him slowly and painfully. What did that bastard think he was doing? Was he trying to set him up with Antonio? The server saw the scowl on his face and cried,

"Don't be mad at me!" The raw emotion in his piteous voice made Romano bluster,

"I'm not mad at you, idiot!"

"Oh, good!" Antonio grinned with relief. "Friends should never be mad at each other. Shall I bring you to a table now?" _WHAT? _Romano screamed in his head. _WHAT? _When did they become friends? He didn't need that from anybody, especially not Antonio! Before he could quash the notion of their friendship, he was ushered to a seat and forced down. This led to a good five minutes of him berating his server about courtesy and personal space (with Antonio grinning the whole time). He forgot about the matter.

It was only until later, when Antonio brushed against his hand accidentally while setting down the food, that Romano remembered. He frowned.

"Hey, don't get any ideas about us being friends or anything."

"What was that?" Antonio yelled, as the din around the café started to crescendo.

"I said, don't get any ideas about us being friends!" The other man shook his head and cupped his ear. Romano fumed. "I'm not your friend!"

"Silly Romano, of course you are! Don't worry. You'll always be my friend!" He was astounded. Somehow, Antonio had managed to bungle up the meaning of his words and turn them around. Furthermore, he continued, "By the way, do you want to hang out with my friends and me tomorrow?" At Romano's stunned silence, he wheedled, "It'll be fun…"

"…Check, please," was all the designer could say. After handing him the check, Antonio smiled reassuringly.

"Just think about it. I'll go find you tomorrow, okay?" Then he flounced away with the check, leaving Romano in open-mouthed astonishment. The man took a moment to get his bearings. Briefly, he debated shouting after the server but decided against it. After all, how would Antonio find him? With this though in mind, he left smugly.

Perhaps everything would go as planned after all.

* * *

Was this chapter okay? Please review and share your thoughts!

*Updated and mistakes fixed! Thanks for the correction, Hi Kitsune!


	4. Chapter 4

Here's chapter 4. Thank you for your continued support!

* * *

Oddly enough, Antonio showed up the next day.

"How did you know where I was?" Romano seethed, shocked that the man had found him.

"I asked around."

"And how did you get here?"

"I walked."

"You're kidding."

"Nope!" The walk to the Veneroma headquarters was exceedingly long. It also consisted of crossing several dangerous highways. Romano scowled. Antonio was much too persistent.

"Stupid. You came all the way here and you don't even know if I'll go with you." Another thought suddenly occurred to him. "Why did you have to walk here anyway? Don't you have a car?"

"No."

"A motorcycle?"

"No."

"A _bike_?"

"No." Antonio shrugged. "I don't have enough money. And I sold my bike a while back to get some."

"Oh. Well…" Romano shook his head to clear it of distracting thoughts. He shouldn't feel sorry for this guy, damn it! "Anyway, I'm not going with you and your friends." _So there._

"Romanooo!" Antonio's eyes were wider than moons. "But you'll miss out on the fun!"

"I don't care." He could practically feel his resolve strengthening with every word. Of course, Antonio had to send it crashing down immediately after. The man clasped Romano's hand in both of his and pleaded,

"Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase—" However, even that was insufficient.

"No." Well, he had to admit, the feel of Antonio's skin on his had almost made him quail. But no, he, Lovino Romano Vargas, was going to hold steadfast and true to his Grand Master Plan and nobody—

"Alright, then. I guess I'll just have to make you go." There was oddly enough a dangerous glint in Antonio's eyes. He hadn't let go of Romano's hand.

"Let go of my—"

"Come on!" And then he dragged the unsuspecting man away at full speed.

"Hey! Stop it! Stop!" Damn, the guy was strong. Antonio merely called over his shoulder,

"Don't worry! It'll be fun!" Romano found himself repeating it like a mantra. _Don't worry. It'll be fun. Don't worry, it'll be fun. Don't worry it'll be fun. Don'tworryit'llbefun_— What did that mean? It seemed that he couldn't remember what fun was.

Somehow, Antonio had managed to find his motorcycle. Romano, stumbling behind him, tried to plant his feet firmly on the blacktop.

"This is as far as I go."

"Don't you need to get home?"

"…Yes."

"Then think of this as a side trip! Or you can just pretend that I'm a hitchhiker who needs to get somewhere, like last time."

"I don't have an obligation to help you!"

"But then I'll have to force you again." Antonio put on a puppy dog face. "Please?" Romano wasn't sure if it was those big green eyes or the thought that Antonio would nag at him until kingdom come that finally made him agree. He was leaning heavily toward the latter. Either way, he was soon speeding toward the intersection between Maine Avenue and Bourne Street with one very happy passenger clinging onto him.

* * *

"Gil! Francis!" Antonio waved his arms frantically from where the motorcycle was parked.

"Stop moving so much," Romano ground out, trying to stabilize his precariously rocking vehicle. The other man chuckled sheepishly.

"Sorry." They dismounted. The designer crossed his arms.

"So, where are your friends?" His companion pointed at a pair of steadily advancing figures.

"There!"

"Antonio!" one of the figures ahead shouted. It was probably Gil, since the hair was cropped short. Running beside him, Francis yelled out something garbled.

"What did you say?" Romano's companion screamed back. Finally, the two arrived.

"I said," Francis panted, "Where did you go? I turned around to talk to a beautiful lady for one minute and then you were gone."

"I went to find Romano! We promised to meet up at his workplace."

"You could have told me, you know," the blond said fondly. I'd have taken you there." He did not seem like it, Romano thought, but Francis was actually pretty caring. Not that he was observing him or anything. Meanwhile, the other one, Gil or whatever his name was, sauntered up to them. He smirked wolfishly.

"Who are you?"

"Romano. You must be… uh… Gil, right?"

"Ah, so you've heard of me! I'm not surprised though. News of my awesomeness always gets around one way or another." He pointed at himself. "I am the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Beilschm—Oh, no." Romano's eyebrows knitted together. "Oh, no, no… You're that freaking Ludwig's brother!"

"Who are you calling 'freaking'? Watch your mouth when you're talking about my brother, asshole—"

"Are you speaking to me, fucker?"

"As a matter of fact, I am!" As the two engaged in a verbal battle, Antonio and Francis attempted to break them apart.

"Come on you guys!" the former pleaded. "We're all friends here!"

"I'm not friends with him!" Romano and Gilbert proclaimed simultaneously, glaring fiercely at each other. Francis gave Gilbert a warning look. He inclined his head slightly toward Antonio. The other man seemed to get the message; he retreated sullenly. It was all very odd, but Romano stayed quiet. Antonio had a broad smile on his face.

"Alright! So, whose turn is it today?"

"It was mine the last time we met up, so…" Francis pursed his lips. "It's yours, Antonio."

"I'm going to give my turn to Romano." Turning to his bewildered companion, he asked cheerfully, "What do you want to do?"

"W-Why are you asking me?" Romano stammered. I don't know. You're the one who dragged me here with no explanation whatsoever! What do you usually do?"

"Well, it depends! When it's Gil's turn, we go to the bar, when it's Francis' turn, we go into town, and when it's my turn, we usually go to my place and watch a movie or something." Romano wasn't sure he wanted to do anything with three virtual strangers, but since he was already here anyway… He opted for the first thing that popped into his mind.

"Park?"

* * *

"This," Gilbert grumbled. "Was one hell of a stupid idea." The four men were walking around the small park near Romano's home. Romano scowled.

"Shut up. I didn't know what to do, okay?" It wasn't his fault.

"There aren't even any pretty girls around here," Francis lamented, looking around at the predominantly elderly population.

"You shut up too! And don't you say anything. This is all because of you." That was directed at Antonio, who had opened his mouth to speak.

"But Romano, I just wanted to say that I'm having fun!"

"Oh. Well, in that case… Whatever, I don't care." Romano shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn't see any harm in coming to the park; he often went for a stroll when his house became too quiet. Of course those nincompoops Gilbert and Francis wouldn't know how to appreciate some peace and relaxation. At least Antonio had the good sense—It was there that he stopped himself. He was surprised that he was complimenting Antonio so willingly. And this recently acquired penchant for flushing red! It seemed only to happen around that man. Embarrassing, to say the least, and not at all professional. He pretended to survey his surroundings. Suddenly, he spied a head of chestnut brown hair with a distinctive curl. Could it be…?

Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio were startled to see Romano suddenly barrel his way over to a person who looked very much like him. The blonds waited for a few moments—then they grabbed Antonio and dragged him behind a bush, obscuring them from view. Their friend laughed.

"What's the matter, guys?"

"So, Toni," Gilbert said nonchalantly, "What's the deal with Romano?"

"Well…" An uncharacteristic blush stole over Antonio's face. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly." I like him?"

"I knew it! No wonder you talked about him so much."

"It was obvious that Antonio liked him, Gil, now the question is does Romano share the same sentiments?"

"Tch, we'll never get the answer out of Mr. Scowl-All-Day. We need to do some reconnaissance." Gilbert pounded his fist into his palm for emphasis.

"You guys don't have to do that for me. I can just talk to Romano."

"Nonsense!" Francis proclaimed dramatically. "In the Bad Friends Trio, it's all for one and one for all! We'll help you get Romano, no matter what."

"You can count on us!" The three bumped their fists together.

"You guys are the best," Antonio told them. His sunny smile was infectious; it spread onto the faces of his friends as they contemplated their next move.

"Stupid Feliciano, sneaking around to see that macho bastard—Hey! Why are you three hiding here?" Romano peered at them quizzically from over the bush. "And why are you grinning like idiots?"

"Tell, me, Romano, do you have a 'special someone'?" Francis subsequently received a hefty punch and a death glare as a reply, after which Romano angrily stomped away. Rubbing his arm ruefully, the blond gave a wry grin. "That means no."

* * *

Was that okay?


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter is a little shorter. Sorry...

* * *

"Hey, Romano! Do you want to go to the bar today?" It was about two weeks after the uneventful sojourn into the park, and Antonio had shown up at the front doors of the Veneroma headquarters again. Romano fitted the silver key into the doors' lock. As he turned it, he looked at the other man.

"Are you going to keep inviting me to your reunions with friends?"

"Do you want me to?" _No, _Romano wanted to say, but it would have been useless. He just grunted and made sure that the doors were properly locked. Antonio continued.

"So, it's Gil's turn today and we're going to the bar. You'll like it!"

Right.

Just like he had liked it when they met two weeks ago.

But it really was pointless to argue because Antonio was too dense and too strong. What a migraine-inducing combination.

"You're still going to drag me there even if I refuse, right?"

"Probably!" Remembering how his arm had nearly been ripped out of its socket last time, Romano sighed in defeat.

"Fine. I'll go, but I won't like it."

"That's right, Romano. You'll love it!" He scowled.

"Come on, you idiot."

* * *

Gilbert and Francis were already sitting at a booth in the dimly lit bar. Antonio wormed his way through the narrow gaps in between other personages, with Romano following closely behind him. He had never been to a bar before; they were too low scale for a person of his stature and reputation to be seen in. The smells and sounds of the place intrigued him, though. But he kept close to Antonio, since he had heard that bars were rowdy places. They reached the booth, and after Romano had warily dusted off the seat, sat down. When Antonio had finished making his customary "Hi, guys!" the four began ordering rounds.

"Beer for me!"

"Wine, please."

"Er… I'll have wine too."

"Tomato juice!" At this, Romano looked at Antonio incredulously.

"You're ordering tomato juice?"

"Yeah! Do you want some?"

"…No. I just assumed that people usually went to bars for liquor, not juice."

"Whatever he drinks is his own business." Gilbert interjected angrily. "Lay off him!"

"You're getting pretty protective," Romano scoffed. "I never took you for a mother hen."

"Shut up."

"Come on guys, stop it. Romano was just curious, Gil. And I drink tomato juice because I like tomatoes a lot." This last piece was directed at Romano with a beaming grin. The designer looked away embarrassedly.

"Whatever." Things still didn't add up, though.

But a few glasses of wine later, all was forgotten. Those who had chosen alcohol were in various levels of tipsiness. Antonio had just finished his fourth glass of tomato juice. He leaned back contentedly.

"I think that's enough for me, guys! I'm going home now."

"I'll take you." Gil stood up. Even though he had downed several mugs of beer, he did not seem too affected.

"Thanks, Gil!" They left after saying goodbye. Meanwhile, Francis and Romano looked at each other blearily. The former slyly smiled.

"Well, it seems that we're alone."

"Hmph," his companion grunted, taking another draught of wine. Romano was the most drunk out of the group. He was not on his guard in the least, and Francis intended to use that to his advantage.

"How exactly did you meet Antonio?"

"He—uh—was hitchhiking."The wine made Romano's tongue loose. Small burps accompanied his speech.

"I see. And what did you think of him at first?"

"Annoying." Francis chuckled.

"And now? What about now?"Romano did not answer, but his cheeks flushed red.

"Could you possibly have feelings for him?"

The question hung between them, suspended only by the transparent thread of suspense. Then, ever so slowly, Romano nodded. He leaned back in an almost guilty manner. In a sudden flash of insight that only the drunk seem to have, he realized that he did indeed like Antonio in a romantic way. There was no use in denying it. He also realized that if his feelings were not reciprocated, he would not wait until later but would kill himself then and there. This was a sad state of affairs that he found himself in. When had Antonio, this person whom he had met only a month or so ago, managed to make his way into his heart? His life would never be the same again. Francis noticed that Romano was visibly drooping.

"There is no shame in being in love, my friend. And I think that you will be pleasantly surprised when you meet Antonio again." With that cryptic statement in mind, Romano finally succumbed to the fatigue that was plaguing his senses.

Francis watched him for a while; then he roused himself and beckoned to a dark corner in the bar. Antonio and Gilbert emerged.

"Did you catch all of that?" their blond friend asked.

"Yup! Thanks, Francis! I owe you and Gil a lot."

"So, what do we do with him?" Gil eyed Romano's limp form. Antonio pondered the problem.

"Well…"

* * *

As always, comments are duly appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6, a little later than usual but a little longer.

* * *

"Ugh…" Romano slowly came to his senses. He immediately winced. The light that surrounded him had penetrated the defense of his eyelids, thus blinding him and exacerbating the aching of his head. This was the worst hangover that he had had in years. When his eyes had adjusted to their surroundings, Romano sat up. He was apparently in an unfamiliar bedroom. This made him panic. How did he get here? He was debating whether to yell or keep quiet when the door suddenly opened.

"Oh, you're up! Morning, Romano!" Antonio entered cheerily. He walked over to the bed casually and sat down.

"Where am I, bastard?"

"In my apartment. I brought you here after you passed out."

"Oh. Uh, thanks, I—Wait a minute. Didn't you leave before I passed out?" Antonio laughed nervously.

"Are you hungry? Come on, let's go eat breakfast!"

"Meaning you stuck around after you claimed you were leaving," Romano stated flatly. The events of the night before resurfaced in his memory. He looked away. "And you heard everything that the wine bastard and I said."

"Sort of," Antonio admitted with a small chuckle. But when Romano remained silent, he grew worried. "Um, you're not mad or anything, are you?"

"I—" What Romano really felt was conflicted. He could not voice his sentiments, though, so he stayed quiet. His companion was visibly anxious now.

"I only did that because Francis and Gil convinced me to get you drunk to find out if you liked me or not! I wouldn't have done it otherwise, Romano, I swear. And since I think you said you do like me I'm really happy because I like you too Romano, I really do! So please don't be angry at me, and won't you tell me how you feel?"

_And won't you tell me how you feel?_

How could he even attempt to begin? He had not even sorted his own feelings out properly. True, he liked Antonio. But thoughts that had been suppressed by his intoxication the night before suddenly plagued his mind. Romano had been planning his suicide for what seemed like most of his life. If he wholeheartedly agreed to be with Antonio, that would mean that a large portion of his existence, his history, himself, would be tossed to the wind like so many pieces of dandelion seeds. Worthless. He just couldn't bring himself to do that quite yet. And what if these affections were just a spur-of-the-moment type of fling? What then?

"Romano?" He gazed at Antonio's face. It was filled with all the earnesty and naïveté of a child.

"I… I don't know," he finally said, too quietly to hear.

"Huh?"

"I don't know!" Romano snapped. "I don't know how I feel! I don't know if this is for real, or if it's going to last, or what I'll do if—" It was there that he stopped and drew a breath. "I don't know," he repeated weakly. Antonio reached for his hand, but he pulled away. He tried to ignore the hurt look on the other's face.

"Well, that's okay!" Antonio's gentle words caused Romano to look at him, startled. The man was smiling once more. "I don't mind if you don't know yet. I'll wait for as long as it takes."

"Really?" Didn't the people who said they were unsure about their feelings usually get rejected by their love interests?

"Sure! All I'll ask is that you come with me after you finish working. I want to take you somewhere special." His green eyes sparkled mysteriously. Romano was taken by surprise.

"Um… alright." He was curious, after all.

"Great! So, do you want breakfast now?"

"Yeah. Sure."

* * *

The place where Antonio wanted to bring him to was a dock situated near the man's home. It was nothing remarkable, just a weathered wooden wharf jutting out over the water.

"What's this?" Romano asked a little peevishly.

"Mariposa Wharf." There was a wistful look on Antonio's face. "I used to come here a lot, but I barely have time to now. You can see the most beautiful sunsets from here. I wanted to show you one!" He walked over to the edge and sat down. Romano stood awkwardly next to one of the big wooden posts on the wharf. After a moment's deliberation, he went over to Antonio and sat next to him. He watched their legs dangle side by side, Antonio's long ones and his own slightly shorter ones. When he chanced a look at his companion, he found him with a tender smile on his face.

"What is it?" Romano inquired, bemused.

"I'm just enjoying nature. Isn't it beautiful today?"

"Uh, sure." All he could see was some grayish water lapping at the dock posts and a few meager clouds dotting the sky. Anyway, what did he care for the scenery? There were more pressing matters to attend to. Like whether he wanted to risk being with Antonio at all. His companion looked at him, surprised. He must have detected his unenthusiastic tone.

"But, Romano—" There was that name again. He supposed that if he was going to properly attempt to start a relationship, he might as well do it openly. And if Antonio decided not to pursue him because of that, it would save a lot of trouble and heartbreak.

"Actually," he interjected, "My name isn't really Romano. Not my first name, anyway. It's Lovino. Lovino Romano Vargas. I use Romano as my designer's alias." He felt foolish for babbling so much. However, Antonio did not seem to mind.

"Lovino Romano Vargas," he breathed, testing the words out. They sounded like the smooth whispering of the wind on his tongue. "That's a beautiful name." It was in that moment that Romano metamorphosed into a purer, cleaner being: Lovino.

"I—It's not beautiful!" Lovino spluttered. "And I don't tell my real name to just anyone, so don't abuse it!" It was only after he had said it out loud that he realized he had grown to trust Antonio. The man had turned from "just anyone" into a person in who Lovino confided his true name. Did this mean that he was ready to be romantically involved with him? He did not know. Whatever the consequences, he felt like a new man. Private, distrusting Romano had given way to open, honest Lovino. The revealing of his full name equaled his ticket for turning over a new leaf.

"Did you always want to be a designer?" he suddenly heard Antonio ask through the misty haze of his musings. The old Romano would have shied away from the inquiry, as answering would have dislodged unpleasant memories from the past. However, he was Lovino now; Lovino, who was frank and for whom the past was a distant era of time.

"I was always interested in design and aesthetics as a kid. After my mom left, I guess it sort of occurred to me that I could use my interests in a job. To support my family and all." Antonio did not inquire further into the matter. Lovino found that he appreciated him all the more for that.

"Wow. Well, when I was a kid, I wanted to own my own restaurant. I had it all planned out. I would be the manager, Francis would be the cook, and Gil would be in charge of the servers. Together, we would make ourselves the proprietors of the most famous five-star restaurant in the world!" Antonio's eyes blazed with the passion from his childhood days. His arms were thrown out wide, as if to show the enormity of his dreamed-of fame. He seemed to be in a world of his own.

"What happened?" Romano immediately regretted speaking. The light dimmed in the other's green orbs. His arms sank down until they were once again at his sides. Antonio was no longer the hero of his own fantastic world; he was once again just a waiter working in an obscure café.

"I had to pay off expenses when I got older. But I guess working at the café is close enough, right?" He gave a bittersweet laugh and leaned back on his elbows. As he surveyed the passing clouds, his features melted back into his usual contented expression. "Life sure works in funny ways."

"How can you say that? Lovino gaped at Antonio. Here was another person who fate had screwed over; yet, he was happy. In his surprise, the man's words came out more harshly than he had meant them to be. "Your childhood dreams were crushed." Antonio contemplated this.

"I guess that's true. But I'm not doing too badly right now. And who knows? Maybe I will own my own restaurant someday!"

"And what if you don't?"

"Well, that's okay too! I'll just work harder and make a better future for myself."

"'Make' a better future?" Lovino reiterated skeptically. He had not lost that trait during his transformation from Romano.

"Yeah!" Antonio aligned himself comfortably on the wooden dock. "See, I believe that every person has the ability to control his or her own life. It's like writing a story! Only this story is your future and only you have the ability to make it as beautiful as you want." He suddenly sat up. Turning to his companion, he grasped his hand. The other man saw himself reflected in his eyes, surrounded by emerald flames of passionate determination. "Lovino, I've never felt this strongly for anyone else before. I really like you a lot. Will you go out with me and help me create my beautiful story?" Earnesty and longing were evident in his voice. Lovino thought hard. Romano would have refused, thinking only for himself and his suicide. But Lovino realized that his life entailed a little more than that. And although he was not certain as to whether he wanted to end his suicide plan for good, he did realize that he did not like to see Antonio hurt. So he said the only thing that he could.

"Alright." He was sure that his blush could be felt throughout the world.

Upon hearing his assent, Antonio grinned. The intensity of his sunny smile increased until Lovino was spotlighted in a single beam of happiness. Still, Antonio said nothing. He merely encased the other man in an embrace that showed everything that words could not, and more. At first, Lovino froze. Such a gesture was foreign to him. Gradually, he relaxed into Antonio's hold, allowing his first genuine smile in years to grace his lips. They drew away after a while. Antonio was still grinning. He leaned in slowly, tentatively toward Lovino, still clasping both of his hands.

"Can I…?" he murmured in a nearly inaudible voice, as if he was afraid to shatter the fragile moment. Lovino gulped; then he nodded. Antonio smiled again.

His lips touched tenderly to Lovino's. They were the brushing of butterflies' wings against dew-laden leaves; light, gentle, chaste. The kiss lasted for an eternity. Still, Lovino wanted time to stop so the moment would be frozen forever. He closed his eyes and savored it while it lasted.

They were still kissing even as rain broke over them from the clouds obscuring the sky above.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I hope it wasn't too bad.

On that note, I want to apologize for the slower and less interesting chapters that I've already posted or am going to post. I'm trying to include something in each chapter that will eventually add up to the conclusion. I realize that focusing so much on this might detract from the overall quality of a chapter. So, please bear with me! The action actually happens later, so... Yeah. Thanks. :0


	7. Chapter 7

Here is the next chapter! Hope it isn't too bad... This is really partly a filler chapter that contains one of those bits of plot that will add up to the conclusion.

* * *

And so the courtship of Romano ended with the advent of Lovino and a gain for Antonio. The latter was his usual lighthearted, affectionate self. He tried to shower his beau with embraces and kisses any chance that he could and immediately confided in him all of his trust. Lovino was a bit more wary. He skirted around Antonio like a hummingbird with a flower when it came to more intimate instances. After all, he was a novice to romance and furthermore had not abandoned his suicide plans entirely (Antonio did not know about them yet). Their relationship however, strange as it was, still managed to hold up.

One afternoon, Lovino received a surprise visit from Antonio at the Veneroma headquarters. Panicked that his coworkers would make malicious gossip about his relationship and sexuality, he told the receptionist over the intercom,

"Yes, let him come up. He's delivering something to me." Antonio entered his office moments later, looking confused.

"I think the receptionist thought that I was a deliveryman."

"Yes, well… she tends to make that mistake." Lovino's fingers fidgeted under his chrome-plated desk. Perhaps he was still Romano in more ways than he thought. Antonio shrugged, then smiled brightly.

"Don't worry, I set her straight. I told her that I was your boyfriend!" Lovino's brain suddenly froze.

"You did what?"

"I said that we are dating." Antonio's grin faltered. "Did I do something wrong?" At that, the designer's brain imploded. He felt a supernova roar from the center of his cerebrum to the edges, consuming everything in its path. His reputation flashed before his eyes. He watched it burn into cinders within ruby-red flames of mortification. Wasn't Antonio a few years older than him? Then how could he be so naïve?

"Oh, you did nothing wrong. Nothing at all."

"I sense sarcasm…"

"Really? Because you didn't do anything wrong, you just destroyed my reputation."

"Isn't that… bad?" God, Antonio could be so clueless sometimes.

"Look. You just revealed to my receptionist that we are a gay couple. People don't look favorably on gay couples. My reputation, therefore, as an efficient, no-nonsense designer is ruined."

"Oh." Antonio seemed to understand. "But I only spoke to the receptionist."

"Gossip can spread, you know."

"Oh," the other man repeated. He hesitated for a second, then asked, "But what do we care what other people think about us?"

"…What?" Lovino gaped at him. "I don't know if you noticed, but the world revolves around appearances and opinions. That's how people find jobs and make a living for themselves."

"That's not true! Appearances and opinions aren't everything." Antonio walked over to the office's window and flung open the curtains. Lovino winced as the bright light hit him. "If you think something feels right, do it! What other people think doesn't matter as long as you're happy." Antonio half turned, smiling. He looked vaguely heroic silhouetted against a backdrop of golden sunlight. Nevertheless, Lovino was unconvinced.

"The staff is going to make my life hell."

"Only if you let them. Remember: you're the one writing the story, Lovi!" The addressed scowled.

"I didn't work toward becoming an author. And don't call me that here, it's unprofessional."

"Alright. But you'll see; I'll prove by the end of the day that nothing will change between you and the office staff!" With that, Antonio rushed out of the office to do God-knew-what. Lovino contemplated running after him. He finally decided against it and sat back at his desk. Whatever happened, it wouldn't be good.

* * *

Toward the end of the day, Lovino ventured cautiously out of his office. The coast was clear, to his great relief, and he briefly entertained the thought that he might be able to leave undetected. Then he walked into the junction between two hallways and was assailed by a voice.

"Oh! Hello, Mr. Vargas!" It was Alicia, the chirpy new intern to one of the department heads of Veneroma. Interns were always the ones to work the least and talk the most. He nodded at her, bracing for the worst. "I heard about your relationship." Here came the deathblow… "Congratulations!"

"Huh?" That was odd. "I mean, thanks." She seemed genuinely happy for him. Could it be a trick aided by convincing acting? Or perhaps she just didn't know all of the details.

"Antonio seems like a great guy. I hope you two are happy together." Apparently, she did.

"Yeah, thanks." He couldn't wrap his head around it. Where were the jibes, the false smiles, the vicious gossiping behind his back? "Um, you don't think it's… weird?" She looked at him, befuddled.

"What's weird about it? Oh, you mean that you're gay?" He winced inwardly. "I don't think any of that matters as long as you're genuinely happy. I've got to go make some copies now. I'm happy for you, Mr. Vargas!" As the intern scampered away, Lovino stayed frozen to the spot. The encounter had not turned out as he had anticipated. Was it because the snarky office employee population had changed its demeaning ways or was it because his previous fears were overblown? He suddenly recalled Alicia's comment about Antonio.

_He seems like a great guy._

Maybe Antonio was the cause of all this. Lovino had not seen him since he left the office. As he contemplated it further, he suspected that the other man had played a large hand in the matter. He set out to find him. Along the way, he met several other office ladies who all gave him their sincere congratulations. They all had one thing in common: all seemed as if they were in a dazed trance, walking about with silly simpers on their faces. Finally, after encountering what seemed like masses of faculty, Lovino chanced upon Antonio. He was in the staff lounge talking with some girls.

"Is he very different from usual when you two meet in private?" one asked. Antonio looked thoughtful.

"Yeah! He's much cuter and not as uptight."

"What do you like most about him?"

"Um… his smile and the way his face turns red when I tease him, I guess."The females tittered at the response. No one noticed Lovino as he inched his way up to them. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Ahem. What is going on here?"

"We were just asking Toni about your relationship," one of the girls explained unabashedly. "Congratulations, by the way!"

"Uh, yes, thank you. Now, if you'll excuse Mr. Carriedo and me, I'll ask you to please resume working." As he led Antonio away, he heard someone whisper,

"He's still pretty stiff. Maybe he hasn't gotten used to romance yet!" Lovino let the lounge's door fall shut on the fresh burst of giggling that ensued. He looked at Antonio with suspicion.

"What have you been doing all day?"

"Just talking with the staff and getting to know them. They're very interesting people." Admittedly, Lovino was not aware of this, as he never really interacted on a social level with his staff. He had always thought of them as merely hired workers who kept Veneroma in shape.

"Were you talking to them about us?"

"Yeah! They were really curious and congratulated us a lot of times."

"… I noticed."

"Oh, you did? Were you congratulated too?" An idea was slowly starting to dawn on Lovino. Formerly captious and derisive employees turned fawning and benevolent…

Had Antonio charmed them into being this way?

It was possible. He was quite a looker, and he was pretty persuasive when he wanted to be…

"Yeah," Lovino muttered. A strange feeling welled up in him. It was… contentedness. Contentedness at the congratulations he had received, contentedness at the new friendly relations between him and the employees. Everything, for once, had turned out alright. "H-Hey, Antonio?"

"Hmm?"

"… Thanks." Antonio did not seem to understand why he said that or why he was blushing so brightly, but he pulled Lovino into a crushing hug anyway. The designer grew flustered as he was wont to do, but he let a small smile slip out behind the other's back.

* * *

Thank you all for the reviews, alerts, and favorites! They are much appreciated. Also, please keep giving me constructive criticism; it helps!


	8. Chapter 8

Oh, chapter 8 already... A little longer, at least.

* * *

"Yes, I know, Rome. I won't forget. Look, I'll show up this time, okay? Bye." Antonio looked up at Lovino from his place on the couch. He watched him disconnect the call on his cell phone.

"Was that your dad?"

"… Yeah." Lovino had never grown used to referring to his father as "dad". He sighed and plopped down on the far end of the couch. Propping his chin up with his palm, he leaned forward on his knees. Antonio saw the moodiness in his stormy eyes. He slid over to him.

"What was that all about?" For a moment, it seemed as if the other man would not answer. He was touchy about topics involving his family, Antonio knew, and he wondered what had provoked this latest reaction in his Lovi. Finally, the designer replied,

"Rome called to remind me about tonight's annual family dinner. He wanted to make sure that I would actually attend this time." He growled in frustration. "That was one time, one time when I didn't go! Why can't he accept that I'm an adult now and I don't need to comply with his every wish? I'm the one providing for the family, damn it! Without me, they would all be starving. Those ungrateful…" As Lovino ranted on, Antonio observed his surroundings with interest. His boyfriend's home was extremely large and spacious. It was furnished with modern-style architecture and furniture. Tasteful paintings adorned the sleek black marble walls, and a glass vase containing a bouquet of red roses (a gift from Antonio) stood starkly against the silver chrome counter. Lovi was so lucky to have all of this, but if he could only get along with his family he would be truly fortunate…

"Hey, Lovi?" Antonio asked dreamily. "What's your family dinner usually like?" He had never really been to one, after all, and his own parents were resting peacefully in their native Spain. Lovino stopped, looking surprised.

"Well…" He bit his lip and tried to think of a way to paint an accurate picture of the dinner table. "We gather at Rome's house at night: he, Germania, Feliciano, and I, and we basically sit down and have dinner."

"That doesn't sound so bad. Why do you hate it so much?"

"I… can't explain it." That was a lie, or course. Lovino could explain perfectly well that he found it awkward to eat dinner while staring his family in the face. He could elucidate with ease the sense of not belonging that he experienced when the rest of the diners chatted and laughed amongst themselves. And he was not above admitting that he had never felt comfortable in the company of the people who were and yet were not his family. Perhaps it was cowardice that hindered his tongue from telling Antonio all of this. Or it might be his sense of pride that forbade him from betraying his weak-hearted sentiments to someone else. Lovino hung his head in shame. Antonio put an arm around him.

"Aw, it'll be fun! It's just one family dinner every year, how bad could it be?" The other man drooped even more.

"I don't want to go," he mumbled. His companion pursed his lips.

"If only you had someone who could help you get through the dinner…" His eyes lit up. "What if I went with you?" Lovino straightened up, contemplating the idea reluctantly. Actually, it didn't seem like such a bad plan. At least if the others started chatting by themselves again, he would have some company.

"Alright," he conceded. Antonio let out a little "yay" and nuzzled Lovino searchingly for his mouth.

"It sounds fun!"

"We'll have to stop by Veneroma first," the designer muttered against the other's lips. "I'm not going to be accompanied by someone wearing a T-shirt and jeans."

* * *

Hours later, after Antonio had been fitted into a handpicked Veneroma suit by Lovino, the two were en route to the dinner party. As he switched lanes, the designer asked,

"Have you ever been to a dinner party?"

"Not a fancy one. Is this dinner party fancy?"

"… Slightly."

"Then what should I do?" Lovino realized that he was in no position to give behavioral advice. If anything, Antonio was more socially competent than he was.

"Just be yourself."

"Okay!" As they drew nearer to the house, Lovino felt a little bit of apprehension. What if his family did something to embarrass him? Worse, what if Feliciano brought his stupid macho potato freak and he was witness to said potential act of embarrassment? It was enough to make a person go mad. They had reached the house, however, so he reluctantly stopped the motorcycle and got off. Antonio followed him to the front door. He noticed his companion's body stiffen as he knocked. Lovino became as rigid as a brick wall when the door was opened by a large man who immediately tried to embrace him.

"Lovino! You came!" the man exclaimed, failing miserably in his attempt to envelope his son in his arms. "And who's this?" He peered curiously at the young man standing next to Lovino.

"This is Antonio. He's my…" Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Boyfriend," the aforementioned supplied helpfully. "Good evening, Mr. Vargas!"

"Call me Rome." The two shook hands. "It's nice to meet you, Antonio. I'm happy that Lovino has found somebody, though he neglected to tell me." Rome threw a pointed look in his son's direction. Lovino promptly ignored it.

"Isn't dinner starting soon?"

"Of course, how silly of me! Please come in." They were ushered into the house by Rome, who directed them into the dining room. Feliciano and Germania had already taken their seats. As Antonio greeted everyone, Lovino, after finding the seat closest to the door, just sat down and scowled. His father clapped his hands gleefully.

"Dinner will now be served!"

* * *

As Lovino had anticipated, the others at the table began to converse with each other midway into the meal. What he did not expect was that they dragged Antonio into their talk as well. He was responding animatedly to their queries and laughing along as if he had belonged to the family his whole life. Beside him, Lovino scowled even more and kept sinking down into his chair. He picked at the steak before him. How was it that Antonio seemed so much a part of a household he had just entered while he, one of the sons, was so distanced from it? The thought made his stomach roil. Meanwhile, Rome was eyeing Antonio's clothing.

"That's a nice suit you've got there. Very well tailored."

"Thanks! Lovi picked it out for me. He's such a great designer."

"'Lovi'?" Feliciano cheered. "How cute! Can I call you that too, Lovino?" His brother glared at him. Antonio continued,

"He is really cute! In private, at least. When we're in public he always acts really formal."

"Is that so?" Rome commented. "By the way, how's the business going, Lovino?" When the addressed did not reply, Antonio nudged him.

"Lovi, your dad is talking to you," he whispered.

"I know!" Lovino shot back under his breath. "I'm not a child, you don't have to tell me." He straightened up a little. "It's fine; we're doing alright."

"That's good to hear. I heard about some popular new fashions that were going around. Did you?" And somehow, Lovino was dragged into a conversation about fashion with his father. He was surprised; Rome had never seemed like the type who would know about such things. However, the man really knew quite a bit about the latest fashions and even made a few good suggestions for the clothing line. Lovino found himself getting wrapped up in the talk. For the first time since the beginning of dinner, he looked into his father's eyes. He noticed the warmth in the brown orbs, the spark of interest that danced in the inky black pupils. He also noticed the thin lines radiating from the corners of Rome's eyes, signifying the onslaught of age. When had his father become so old and tired looking?

The conversation came to a lull and they stopped. However, Lovino felt as if he had discovered something new about his father, something interesting and exciting that he had never noticed before. During the rest of the dinner, he observed the table's going-ons with more care. He saw how his father tried to include him in discussions with the rest of them. Had he always done that? Lovino could not remember. He also noticed how Feliciano always tried to ply him with more food or wine, how his brother bubbled with mirth and goodwill. He even took into account how Germania, silent as he was for most of the time, occasionally contributed to the conversations with an interesting tidbit of information or two. Lovino realized that his family was actually quite interesting. He had never felt closer to them before.

The dinner had roused up new feelings for Lovino about his family. Among them was curiosity. He began to wonder about Germania. For the most part, his father's tall, blond partner was an enigma to him. Was there a whole new side to this person? Therefore, when everything had been cleared away and Antonio had excused himself to go to the restroom, Lovino went up to Germania. Nonchalantly he commented,

"So, how was the dinner?"

"Nice. More lively than usual." His ice blue eyes focused in on the young man's features. Lovino almost gulped. He decided to come out with it.

"I don't know much about you, I've realized. Like what your real name is." The other paused. For a moment, Lovino believed that he had offended him. Then—

"Adalwin." The man gave a rare smile. Suddenly, he didn't seem as menacing as before. Even more sudden was the rush of exhilaration that Lovino felt. That one word was but a stalk of grass in a field, but still, it was a start. The two men nodded at each other and parted ways. Lovino spotted his father smiling at him out of the corner of his eye. He walked over to him. Rome was beaming.

"So you don't hate Germania!"

"Not as much as I thought I did, at least."

"That's okay too." His father looked at him contentedly. "You know I'm proud of you, right?"

"… Yeah." He had always known, he supposed; he just never paid any mind to it. "I know."

"I've never felt as close to you as I have today." That startled him. _Me too_, Lovino wanted to cry, but he knew he was too much of a coward. Instead, he nodded. There was silence for a while. A thought suddenly occurred to the designer, a dredging up of old memories and a desire to learn about the past.

"Hey… can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Rome replied, concerned at the tones of meekness and humility in his son's voice. "Ask me anything." It seemed as if it was hard for Lovino to talk about this, whatever he was going to say, as he looked to the side and clenched his hands into fists. He sighed and finally looked into his father's eyes.

"Mom… why didn't you stop her from leaving?" Tears and some anger were suddenly threatening to spill over, but he charged on bravely. "Why… when I was begging her not to go, why didn't you do anything?" After that he could not speak anymore, lest the tears flowed. Rome immediately grew infinitely weary. He sat down heavily on a nearby chair. The topic was difficult for him as well. After being quiet for a long time, he began to speak.

"Your mother… was a free spirit. She had her own ideas and her own ways of doing things, and she was stubborn. Very stubborn. But I loved her, you understand? We all loved her." He laughed a little but then turned sorrowful again. Sadness clouded his eyes and deepened the creases on his face. "I wouldn't have been able to stop her from leaving if I tried. And if I had used force, she would have become a broken husk of herself. On the day that she announced that she was leaving, I—I wasn't surprised. I'd already known about the affair weeks ago."

"Why didn't you put an end to it?" Lovino cut in. He seemed deeply troubled. Rome smiled gently, wistfully.

"How could I? She wouldn't have listened to me. In fact, she would probably have left sooner just to spite me." His mouth then drooped at the corners. He looked away as if in shame, hanging his head. "But the worst part was… I caused her to leave, Lovino. It was me." His voice faded to a whisper. "I was too overbearing. I regulated everything she did; I confined her within limited borders. She must have hated it, eventually hated me. That's why she left, son: it was because of me." Rome was shaking; Lovino realized that he was crying.

"Rome…" he murmured. The other man looked up at him with eyes bright with tears.

"She loved you, though; you and Feliciano. You two were the sun and moon for her. When she left, she told me to treasure you two like I'd never treasured anyone before." He paused, blinking rapidly. "She told me to treat you two better than I had treated her." He fell silent, sobbing soundlessly. After a moment's deliberation, Lovino put a hand on his shoulder. Rome looked up at the contact. His son opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. The father laughed bitterly. "You'll never forgive me, will you? I understand. Just don't tell Feliciano yet, he—"

"It's okay." Lovino's face was set with determination.

"… What?"

"It's okay." Then, more quietly, he said, "I forgive you. Mom made her own decision;" _And even though you dominated her life and made her leave, _"It wasn't entirely your fault."

"Lovino, I—"

"Let's move on, okay? I think we've mourned over this long enough." He tried to smile through his tears. Rome stood up. He took a step closer. Then, he embraced his son.

And Lovino hugged him back.

"Not a day goes by without me thinking about your mother," his father murmured. "I hope she's happy wherever she is."

"Amen," Lovino choked out. He was crying hard. Rome held him until he regained his composure, then asked,

"So, did I do what she said? Treasure you two like no one else and treat you well?" Lovino recalled childhood memories when his father would comfort him through the lonely nights when he missed his mother, when he would patch him up and tell him funny stories after he fell off his bicycle. Rome had been a good father; it was he who had been a bad son.

"You did. And I'm sorry that I've been such a horrible child to you when you were the best father anyone could have. "

"Son…" His father held him even tighter. "You were wonderful. You still are. And," He grinned a little. "I'm glad that you've managed to find someone to be with. Antonio seems like a fantastic person. He's changed you, Lovino." Looking back on everything that had transpired, Lovino concluded the same thing: Antonio had changed him. He had made him a better person. In fact, he was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Thanks… Dad." Rome's eyes lit up.

"I hope you two have a long, happy relationship. And visit more, won't you?"

"I will."

* * *

After he walked out into the hallway, Lovino spied Feliciano talking with Antonio. The latter looked up at the sound of footsteps.

"Lovi! Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Just hold on a little longer." He went up to Feliciano. "Hey, Feli." He had not used his sibling's childhood nickname in years. His brother pounced on him joyfully.

"You used my nickname!"

"Yeah." He patted Feliciano awkwardly on the back. "I just want you to know that I'll miss you when you go back to Italy. You've done a good job with the company."

"Wow, thanks!" What had come over his brother? Feliciano was starting to get a little worried. "Are you o—"

"And I guess I don't mind if you and the pota—Ludwig, hang out." His brother was frozen with shock for a moment. Then he hugged him with all his might.

"Oh, Lovino, that means a lot to me! Thank you so much!"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "You'd have done it anyway, I bet. But he'd better watch out if he does anything to hurt you; tell him that!" After he dislodged himself from his brother's arms Lovino tugged Antonio away and left, Feliciano's grateful cries still lingering in his ears.

"So, was the dinner party okay?" Antonio asked hopefully.

"It was great."

On the way back he reflected on everything. He owed a lot to Antonio. The man had helped him conquer his apprehensions and become close with his family again. He had given Lovino something else as well: attention. Antonio had showered affection on him and made him understand that life wasn't so bad when you had someone to share it with. Most importantly, he had showed Lovino that life was worth living. In those few minutes going from his father's house back into town, Lovino realized that he loved Antonio. But that was a confession to make another day; for now, he just wanted to express his thanks.

When Antonio got off the motorcycle after it stopped in front of his apartment, Lovino embraced him as tightly as he could. He seemed startled at first. Then Antonio smiled and wrapped his arms around the designer too, kissing him to show that he understood.

* * *

Umm... how was it?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9! Now we're getting to the main part...

* * *

It was a quiet day in the office. Lovino stood up from his desk and walked over to the coffee pot on his counter. He poured himself a cup and sipped at it, thinking. Antonio was working at the café today, so he would not be able to visit. Lovino was of course disappointed. However, he was also relieved, as he would be able to postpone the inevitable confession of love. He blushed just thinking about it. Antonio would probably make a big deal out of it and laugh and hug him or something. Stupid Antonio, unconsciously having such an effect on him. But a part of Lovino felt smug. Not everyone had a personal admirer as a beau. In the last few months, he had felt like he was on top of the world; nothing could topple him. Lovino was just about to lift the coffee to his lips when his phone rang. He set the cup down and picked up.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Vargas, Francis Bonnefoy would like to speak to you." Francis? What could he possibly want?

"Put him through." _If this is for something stupid, I'm going to blacklist you._

"Hello?" Francis asked tentatively after a while.

"This is Romano speaking."

"Romano. There is… something I need to tell you."

"Yes?" He was concerned at the somber tone that the other man was using.

"I don't exactly know how to say this…" Francis' voice was tinny over the phone.

"Is it bad news?"

"…Yes." Well, how bad could it be?

"Hit me with it." There was a pause on the other side of the line. Finally, the voice spoke again.

"Romano, Antonio is in the hospital right now."

* * *

Lovino paced back and forth in the white-tiled hospital hall. His hands were stiffly at his sides, his face a contortion of worry and panic. He suddenly stopped and spun around.

"When did this happen?" Francis, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, replied,

"At about three o'clock. He was in my office discussing something with me when he suddenly wobbled and fainted."

"Holy Mother of Jesus," Lovino swore under his breath, then continued his tireless passage up and down the hallway. Form his sitting position next to Francis, Gilbert said,

"Stop it, you're making me dizzy." His face was just as grave as the rest of the group, possibly even more so. For that reason Lovino complied without a fight. He couldn't take being in this sterile environment, knowing that someone he loved was inside one of the stark white rooms lining the hospital corridors. Frenzied questions ripped through his mind. Was Antonio okay? Why had he just fainted all of a sudden? He didn't have anything dangerous, did he?

"Do you have any idea why he fell over?" Lovino fired at the two situated across from him. They were uncomfortably silent. He tensed up. "Well?"

"Perhaps…" Francis began. Gilbert finished for him.

"You should ask Antonio."

"Why?" Lovino inquired, immediately suspicious.

"It's better if you hear it from him." At that point the door to Antonio's room opened and the doctor stepped out. Gilbert righted himself to speak to him, but Lovino was quicker.

"How is he?" The doctor, a tall, serious man, looked at him gravely.

"As of now, Mr. Carriedo is in semi-stabilized condition. His systems are unpredictable at the moment. I can't ascertain if he will continue to remain in his present state." He eyed the three men. "You can visit him for a short time. But if his condition happens to change, please alert someone." As he walked away, the doctor bowed his head. The three looked at each other.

"Do you want to see him first?" Francis inquired gently.

"You guys go ahead." Lovino needed some time to prepare himself. He watched Francis and Gilbert go in, closing the door behind them. For the next few minutes he tried to calm down. _Stop worrying so much. Antonio is probably fine. The doctor's diagnosis didn't sound too bad, did it? When you go in, he'll probably be smiling at you and wave like an idiot. _But when Francis and Gilbert came out, he wished that he had had more time to himself. They nodded at him and he slowly entered the room.

* * *

Antonio was propped up with some pillows on his bed. He looked up as Lovino entered.

"Lovi!" he said feebly. His complexion was sickly white, his body frail. The green eyes that were usually so filled with life seemed blank. This pathetic figure lying on the bed couldn't be—wasn't—Antonio. Nevertheless, Lovino edged closer to him.

"Antonio?" he asked quietly. "Are you—are you alright?"

"Now that you're here I am." Even his smile seemed weak.

"What happened?"

"I was in the café talking to Francis—"

"I know that." He tried to keep his voice from rising with panic. "Why did you faint?"

"Let's not talk about that—"

"I have to know. Please." Lovino's eyes were filled with pain. He was fighting back the tears in his eyes and the trembling of his lips. Seeing this, Antonio assumed a defeated expression. His gaze darted to and from his companion's.

"Well, don't freak out of anything, but…" He hesitated. His mouth opened and closed, unsure of whether to unleash his next few words or swallow them down. Finally, he grinned weakly. "I have cancer."

Lovino stared at him. The whites of his eyes showed, bringing a look of horror along with them. It seemed impossible. Antonio, his perpetually vivacious Antonio, had cancer…?

"You're kidding, right?"

"… No, I'm not. Don't you believe me?"

"I'm not sure that I want to." Antonio gave him a few seconds to become acquainted with the truth. Eventually, Lovino queried in a wavering voice, "Did you just get it?"

"Actually, I've had it for a while now. It's just that I've been in remission all this time and I had a relapse today for some reason. Isn't that weird?"

"How are you still this optimistic?" Lovino's voice vacillated between disbelief and horror. "How can you still joke around?" Antonio smiled again.

"If I let the negative things affect me, I would never get past living in a shadow. My story doesn't include giving up, at least not yet."

"Your stor—Antonio, this is way beyond your concept of your future. You have cancer, for Christ's sake!" Lovino was going to cry, he was sure of it.

"I've made it this far. Just have faith, okay? I won't ever leave you, not if I can help it." Believing that the course of the cancer was under Antonio's control was much more comforting than considering the other possibilities. Lovino tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He had to be strong, for Antonio's sake.

"Okay. I believe in you." All of the odd occurrences from before added up in his mind. "Is that why Francis and Gilbert are so protective of you and why you ordered tomato juice when we went to the bar?"

"Yeah. Francis and Gil watch out for me, and I gave up alcohol to be on the safe side. I guess it still wasn't enough to prevent the relapse, huh?"

"Don't talk about such things, you idiot." Lovino mustered up a smile. "When you get better we'll figure out what provoked it. I'll provide for you. I'm assuming your financial situation arose from paying for medication, right?"

"How did you know?"

"I guessed." Mainly it was because everything had become painfully clear after he found out about Antonio's predicament. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"I'm going to leave, then." He fluffed up the pillows, adjusted the comforter. The other man shifted uneasily.

"Lovi?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you mad that I didn't tell you sooner?" The designer almost choked. Who was he to get angry over something like that? He had his own secrets that he had not revealed yet. Perhaps he would never tell Antonio about his suicide plans.

"No. I could never," he said fervently. Antonio smiled in response. On an impulse, Lovino leaned down and placed a kiss on the other's mouth. They were chapped severely and tasted faintly of bile. Antonio gazed at him.

"Tell Francis and Gil I said bye, okay? And tell them that I'll be okay." Lovino nodded, looked at him one last time, and left. On his way out he relayed the necessary information to the other two, then exited the hospital.

That night he vomited into the toilet bowl of his unforgiving marbled bathroom. In the midst of it all, he recalled the taste of Antonio's lips and realized that he himself had never told him he loved him. Then he retched again.

* * *

I know it's kind of depressing... But please tell me what you think.


	10. Chapter 10

Well, it's here! The last chapter. It's been great writing, and I hope all of you have enjoyed it.

* * *

Lovino had been visiting Antonio for the past week or so. The man had not seemed to get better, but he wasn't becoming worse either. At least, Lovino thought he wasn't. Today, he was back at the hospital, this time with a treat.

"I asked the doctor if you could have some," he told Antonio, then pulled three bright red tomatoes out of a paper sack. His companion beamed at him with innocent child-like joy.

"Thanks, Lovi! I haven't had one in ages!"He picked one up and delicately bit into it. "It's good."

"I tried to pick the best ones I could find." Lovino scrutinized Antonio closely. He seemed much better today, remarkably so. In the sunlight streaming in from the room's windows, he appeared to be glowing. "You seem much better today."

"I feel okay." Was Antonio's voice getting stronger? It seemed so. Lovino became more excited.

"At this rate, they'll probably discharge you by next week!"

"Yeah! I'll be out of here in no time." There was something hidden in the depths of Antonio's eyes, but he didn't read too much into it. This was great! Antonio was improving at a rapid pace. Lovino was already planning out the rest of his life with the other man. The future seemed boundless. Fueled on by optimism, he talked animatedly with Antonio as the minutes passed by.

Toward the end of the hospital's visiting hours, Antonio suddenly said,

"I love you, Lovi."

"I know." He had suspected it for a long time.

"Um… do you love me?" The blood froze in his veins. Would his confession have to come at such an untimely instance, not to mention in a hospital of all places?

"… You know what? I won't tell you until you get out from the hospital. It'll give you an incentive for getting better faster."

"Aw, Lovi!" At Antonio's sad look, Lovino decided to relent a little.

"If it makes you feel any better, I have a strong feeling that the answer is going to be positive."

"Okay!" There was still a hint of melancholy in Antonio's expression, but he seemed happy enough. Lovino nodded, satisfied.

"Then when I come again tomorrow I expect to see you back to your old self."

"I'll try!"

"You'd better, idiot," he added in fondly, for old time's sake. He leaned in to give Antonio the customary goodbye kiss. This time, however, the other man's hands slid onto the sides of his face gently. He tilted the young man's head back. Lovino could feel the intense passion radiating from Antonio's heart-of-hearts in the kiss, and he tried to invoke the same from himself. Into it he poured everything that he had neglected to say or neglected to do. They pulled away moments later.

"Bye, Lovi," Antonio said softly. He watched with mournful eyes as Lovino, his dearly beloved, disappeared out of the door of his room. The other saw nothing of it, not even the lonely tear that trickled down Antonio's cheek.

* * *

Lovino was awakened early in the morning by the abrupt ringing of his telephone. He looked groggily at his bedside clock. Who the fuck was calling him at six a.m.? The designer debated hanging up on the caller until he saw that it was Francis.

"Hello?"

"Romano?" Francis' voice sounded urgent.

"What is it?" _And how did you get my private phone number? _

"You need to get to the hospital right now. It's Antonio, he's—" Before the sentence had even been finished, Lovino had thrown on his clothes and rushed out of his house.

* * *

It was late afternoon, and Lovino, Francis, and Gilbert were still at the hospital. They were keeping a vigil outside of the emergency room. Lovino gripped the edge of his chair tightly. The hard plastic dug into his palms.

"What are they doing in there?"

"Last time I checked," Gilbert said, "They were pumping something into him." He looked a bit green. His red eyes were lusterless and he was deathly pale. Francis looked haggard too. His usually fresh, young face was worn and weary. All three fell silent and listened to the erratic beeping of the heart monitor coming from within the emergency room.

Early in the morning, Antonio had woken up and vomited blood violently. He had not done so before, as the doctor had explained, and after his condition had been confirmed as critical he had been rushed into the emergency room. There he had been diagnosed with ulcers on his stomach. The formerly benign tumor somewhere in his chest had suddenly turned malignant, spreading its chaotic influence all over his body. The surgeons were preparing to remove it. At that point Antonio's friends had arrived. And there they had remained. The clock on the wall read four thirty.

"They must have been able to do something by now," Lovino muttered to himself. The others stared at their hands dully. They remained like that for a good other hour. Lovino was almost dozing off. He struggled to keep awake, focusing on the sounds of the heart monitor. The beeping was still inconsistent—Wait. Was the beeping getting slower? Heart pounding, he counted each one.

_Beep buh-beep beep buh-beep beep buh beep beep buh beep beep beep beep beeeeeep. _

The three men looked at each other with frightened eyes. They jumped up simultaneously, gazes fixed on the door.

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. _

Suddenly, everything was quiet. The silence was like a blow to Lovino's heart. _No, it can't be…_

The doctor stepped out of the room. He looked at them carefully. Then, he hung his head.

"I'm sorry."

That was when time stopped.

* * *

They were not permitted to see the body. Eventually, they had all exited the building. Lovino was the last to go. He had locked himself in the bathroom until his broken sobs had subsided. Then, with his eyes red and his face wet, he left the place where Antonio had been cinched by the jaws of Death. The first person he saw was Francis. He too was dry-eyed. What betrayed him were his knuckles, stark white against the black of his jacket sleeves that he clutched so tightly. Lovino went over to him. He didn't know what to say. Luckily, Francis spoke first.

"He was a great guy. Always smiling, always happy." The designer looked at him. Francis' face was perfectly blank. Only his eyes revealed the turmoil taking place inside of him. Lovino had forgotten the effect that Antonio's passing would have on his friends. He had thought only of himself, ruling out all of the other people who had made impacts on Antonio's life.

"He always said that you and Gilbert were the best friends a person could have," he offered.

"We were his best friends, yes," Francis admitted. He turned and let his piercing gaze fall softly on Lovino. "But you were his everything." At that, the designer could not reply. He merely looked away and asked,

"Where's Gilbert?"

"He's by the front of the hospital."

"Thanks. Take care," were the only consolations he could yield in his haze of painful misery. As he made his way to the hospital's entrance, he felt his heart being pierced by a million nails; slowly, crookedly. It hurt so much. Finally, he spotted the familiar red sweatshirt. He walked up to Gilbert's side. There they stood, two shattered men mourning. Presently, Lovino looked at his companion. He opened his mouth to say some words of comfort, but something else came out instead.

"Let's start over." Gilbert was just as startled as he was.

"What?"

"We didn't get off to a great start, and I—I want to start over." He added hastily, "He would have wanted it." After some hesitation, the other man nodded. He withdrew a hand from the pocket of his jeans and stuck it out between them. Lovino took it, and they shook. A simple action, really, but something passed between them that was infinitely more complex and lasting. The designer nodded. Then, after having paid his dues, he left in order to be by himself.

* * *

It was dusk when he finally arrived at Mariposa Wharf. He parked his motorcycle where he had the last time he had been here with Antonio. Then he walked over to the edge of the dock. Sitting seemed inappropriate for the moment, so he remained standing, leaning against a pole.

He couldn't believe that Antonio was gone.

The man had seemed fine when he had visited him the day before. How was it that all of a sudden he turned critical? Unless—He suddenly realized the agonizing truth. Antonio had been keeping up the pretense of being well. He had known that he was going to pass away; he just wanted to prevent Lovino from worrying. That was probably also why he had told him he loved him.

To leave his final words with his love.

Lovino realized with a jolt that he had not made his due confession. The pain went straight to his heart, a lightning bolt zapping through. Why was he so stupidly stubborn? Why couldn't he just have told Antonio that he loved him too? He recalled that he had not told him about his suicide plans either. Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered, but he had not been entirely truthful to the other man when Antonio had told him everything. That hurt most of all.

He looked up to see the most heartbreakingly beautiful sunset that he had ever seen (the one that he and Antonio were supposed to have watched on that fateful day). Perhaps Antonio, somewhere up there, had sent it as a parting gift and a sign that he was alright. And that got him thinking.

Antonio had been a good man, the best type of man, never backing down in the face of opposition. He was forever optimistic and forever smiling. He had reformed him and made him better than he had ever dreamed. Lovino thought about Antonio's theories, the ideals that he had lived for. He would never have thrown his life away. Thus, he let his former plans float away on the breeze, those many years that he had wasted by ignoring the wonders of life. He would keep living. For Antonio. Now Lovino knew that he was ready to create his own future, to write his own beautiful story. He looked up at the vividly hued sky and smiled. Antonio was up there, grinning down at him.

_I know what happiness is now, and I love you. _

So, I hope you guys liked it!

* * *

*Update* Recently, I received something really special for this fic: fanart! So, please go to the link below (remove the spaces) and tell the artist your opinions on her beautiful work.

http : / browse. deviantart. com/ ? qh=& section =& global=1&q=te+amo+dammit# / d2y5vzw

Thank you so much, ~Artriz! I love it so very much, and I'm really honored that you thought highly enough of the fic to draw something from it! And thank you to Bleachfan82 for telling me. :)


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